“Will,” he said tiredly, “I know what it is. I know that if it is mishandled they will become like my sister and mother—like I was before you. I know we will strive not to mishandle them. But damn it, Will, I have done what I did not wish to do. I have cursed two children with an affliction I knew I would pass to any child I sired. But I did it anyway. It was willful and selfish and I knew better, and they will suffer for it. And one of them is your heir. I have…”
“Such hubris,” I chided.
He tensed in my arms and snorted against my shoulder.
I held him tighter. “What else are you profoundly sure of?” I asked with a lighter tone.
He snorted again. “That we will love them. That we will love them no matter how they are. That we will tear the world apart to make it safe for them. That… you love me, and forgive me, and feel that if there is any blame it is the Gods’, as I did not truly set out to father either of them, and…” He sighed, and then he returned my embrace with fervor. “My heart aches.”
“Do you wish to kill something?” I teased.
He chuckled ruefully. “Non, the other one.”
“Me too.”
He pulled away a little and pawed tears from his eyes. “What else did she say?”
I told him what Yvette had said of Jaime.
He sighed and looked heavenward to frown. “Do you believe the Gods gave them to us as a challenge?”
“I think perhaps the Gods help people who should be together find one another.”
He dropped his gaze to meet mine with curiosity.
“Perhaps the children chose us. Perhaps we chose them. Truly, what would we do with normal children? Where would be the challenge? All that we have learned in healing you would be wasted. If these little souls wished to challenge themselves in life with afflictions, what better parents to have than us?”
He gave me a rueful smile. “Your boys will probably be completely healthy and sane and spend their lives wondering what the hell is wrong with the rest of us.”
He was correct, but I chuckled. “Non, being raised by a pair of centaurs will surely destroy any chance they might have to be simple wolves or sheep.”
Gaston nodded thoughtfully. “What would it be like to not have to climb so far uphill to reach… This plateau—this place we can offer them as the starting point of their journey. You once wondered what would we have become if we had met one another as children, and thus been able to love one another and… provide that balm that we do for one another at the ages when we were most scarred. At least that is the way I have come to think of it.”
I smiled. “By the Gods, if we could give a child the chance to start at even half the height we have attained these last years; they would surely be able to climb to heights we cannot even imagine.” I touched his chin and pulled his gaze to mine. “And it is equally true for those who might carry an affliction as it is for those who might not.”
He took a deep and calm breath and smiled. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
Hand in hand we returned inside to the warmth and happiness of our people. The farmhouse’s large main room was filled with talk of the House of Venus and ships and the future, but as we entered it stopped as Theodore stood and waved everyone to silence. With surprise, I regarded the cheerful faces turned toward us.
“Three cheers for our lord, Will, without whom none of this would be possible,” Theodore said happily.
They cheered. My heart swelled and ached until the pressure leaked from my eyes. I wished to protest that I had done nothing, but that would be wrong—a false humility. For all my fears that I had shattered their lives and dragged them to and fro… What had I truly done? I had brought them here: hauled them with us to a place higher than many of them had imagined; and by the looks of it, they were all the better for it.
I felt the tallest and proudest I ever had, but still my words were true. “Thank you, but I could not have done it without every one of you.”
We waded in amongst them, and I let their love wash over me, knowing it for the Gods-given gift it was.
Later, when the drinking was finished and all began to seek slumber, Gaston and I withdrew to the nursery with Yvette and Agnes. The women dismissed the maid and crawled onto a cot next to the crib in which my infant sons slept. Half the room was occupied by a large mattress upon which the rest of the children—all seven of them—slept curled and tangled together like contented puppies. The floor was full of dogs. It was the most wonderful and safe place I had ever seen.
I carefully crept about and peered down at moonlit angelic faces. I wondered if Pike and James would miss the other children. I felt pity for them going to live with their mother in Rolland Hall. Henry—or Henri as I heard everyone calling him—and Eliza—as Elizabeth Theodore was now called—would remain with our children. With Pete and Chris’ child—children most likely—they would be raised as siblings to our brood. They would all be our little herd of centaurs.
Gaston was standing where I had left him near the door. I returned to him and found tears in his eyes and his fists clenched. “I am overwhelmed,” he whispered.
I nodded and found a blanket before leading him to a corner near the window. It took a little time to convince Taro we really wanted a small space on the floor, but at last I was able to get us snuggled down amidst snoring dogs.
“How will we ever help them to find someone like you?” Gaston whispered.
I envisioned the herd of colts on the bed as older creatures. I smiled. “They will learn to love and lean on one another until they find someone to team with.”
He took a shaky breath. “We have spoken of this before, but what if they fall in love with one another?”
I sighed and kissed his cheek. “My love, I feel that is likely; and perhaps even desirable, as it will likely be difficult for them to find other centaurs. And I understand your fear, but I feel if we are honest with them as to who is related to whom—and many of them will not be related by blood at all—then…”
“What if my children fall in love? With one another,” he clarified.
There was much of his Horse in his voice. I was not sure what he might need to hear; and I was curious. “What if they do?” I asked lightly.
His breath caught and his voice wavered when he finally spoke. “I will not do as my father did.”
“Will you do as my father did?” I asked.
He sighed. “Non, not that either.”
I kissed him gently. “My love, we cannot live in fear that they will… make our mistakes.”
He took several deep breaths and rubbed my hand for a time until his Horse receded. “I am sure they will make new ones,” he said lightly.
I chuckled. “By the Gods, I am sure they will. And is it our place to stop them from learning the truly hard things the only way they can be learned?”
“Non,” he sighed. “And I know we cannot spare them pain and…” He shrugged. Then his lips were on mine. “One of us must be sane,” he whispered when he released me.
He turned away and pressed his back to my chest. I happily obliged his need to be held, and wrapped my limbs about him. As I drifted off, I wondered how it would all work. Would we both need to be sane in the face of their possible madness? Or sadly, would there be times when our poor children would need to be sane in the face of ours? It would surely be a good thing that there would be more than us to raise them.
Thank the Gods.
The End
Bibliography
The following titles do not represent the entirety of my studies; but they were the ones I found the most useful, and the ones I recommend to anyone interested in doing their own reading about the buccaneers and this period of history. To that end, they are ranked in order of usefulness to my research.
Exquemelin, Alexander O., The Buccaneers of America (translated by Alexis Brown, 1969), Dover Publications, Inc., 2000. Original publication, Amsterdam, 1678.
Haring, C.H., The Buccaneers
of the West Indies in The XVII Century, New York: E.P. Hutton, 1910.
Burney, James, History of the Buccaneers of America, London: Unit Library, Limited, 1902. First edition, London, 1816.
Burg, B.R., Sodomy And The Perception of Evil: English Sea Rovers in The Seventeenth-Century Caribbean, New York: New York University Press, 1983.
Pawson, Michael & David Buisserat, Port Royal Jamaica, Jamaica: The University of the West Indies Press, 1974.
Buisserat, David, Historic Jamaica From The Air, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers, 1996. First edition, 1969.
Marx, Robert F., Pirate Port: The Story of the Sunken City of Port Royal, New York: The World Publishing Company, 1967.
Briggs, Peter, Buccaneer Harbor: The Fabulous History of Port Royal, Jamaica, New York: Simon And Schuster, 1970.
Dunn, Richard S., Sugar and Slaves: The Rise of the Planter Class in the English West Indies, 1624-1713, New York: W.W.Norton & Company, Inc., 1972.
Apestegui, Cruz, Pirates of the Caribbean: Buccaneers, Privateers, Freebooters and Filibusters 1493-1720, London: Conway Maritime Press, 2002.
Marrin, Albert, Terror of the Spanish Main: Sir Henry Morgan and His Buccaneers, New York: Dutton Children’s Books, 1999.
Pyle, Howard, Howard Pyle’s Book of Pirates, New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1921.
Cordingly, David, Under The Black Flag, New York: Random House, 1995.
Kongstam, Angus, The History of Pirates, Canada: The Lyons Press, 1999.
About the Author
I, W.A. Hoffman, am a reader who wishes to know nothing about the writers of the books I enjoy. I wish to regard another artist’s work on its own merit, as an entity unto itself, unattached to the mundane world by threads of minutiae and expectations born of labels. I don’t want to know how many dogs another author has, or the state of their conjugal bliss at the time of a novel’s publication. And what matters an artist’s bona fides, their talent and skill either blossoms on the page or it does not.
I realize my opinion on this matter is not widely held. I am aware of the customs of publication. I choose to follow my own path through this life, however. That is why I started my own publication company, Alien Perspective; so that I might be free to write what my muse and the Gods inspire and desire; and freer still to send the fruits of my labor out into the world in any form I choose: to find readers who simply wish to immerse themselves in art born of my love for my characters and their stories.
About the Cover
The illustration used on the cover of this book is a detail of Howard Pyle’s The Sack of Cartegena (There are several alternate titles for this painting). The piece was painted in 1907, as part of a series of paintings and illustrations for Howard Pyle’s Book of Pirates. It is not used here to represent any particular scene or character in this series.
Howard Pyle is regarded by many as the father of American illustration. There are numerous books and web sites devoted to his work and legacy, so we will not waste words here saying what many others can tell you. Pyle seems to be one of the few illustrators who ever read Exquemelin or Burney (see bibliography). In his art and writing, he accurately depicts what is known of the buccaneers in terms of dress and tactics. He essentially represents buccaneers, circa 1630-1680, and not romanticized notions from later centuries about “pirates” from the Golden Age of Piracy, 1680-1720.
For more information, please visit
www.alienperspective.com
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